


Take me in Your Arms

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "The Girl in Question"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take me in Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PokerKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokerKitten/gifts).



Take me in Your Arms

Spike sat at the at the bar and tried to avoid looking at the dance floor, he could smell the sweat, the excitement, the steady hum of sexual attraction that exuded from the numerous gyrating bodies.

_Just like Italy…_

He slammed his empty glass on the bar to gain the bartenders attention and threw down a few crumpled bills as the bartender filled his glass.

He lifted the glass to his lips, savoured the burn of the smooth liquid as it hit the back of his throat and wished he hadn’t when he caught sight of the blonde’s reflection in the mirror above the bar. Tall, lithe, long hair that flowed free in golden waves as she moved in time to the music …

_Just like her …_

“To moving on,” Spike mumbled and raised his glass in salute to the reflection in the mirror.

It was alright for Angel, he’d had more time, more time to adjust, to come to terms, to get used to a life without her in it, without her strength, her smile, her hair …

He looked up to see the girl on the dance floor, she was taller than Buffy upon closer inspection, and she lacked that aura of strength that always seemed to emanate from her but the hair, that glorious blonde hair. He always loved her hair, the way it felt when he ran his fingers through it, the way it smelt when he buried his face in its softness …

_Moving on …_

Spike sighed, seemed they were always fighting over women, a hundred years plus and the only thing that had changed was that once it was a brunette, now it was a blonde. 

Still, Spike laughed to himself, least they had something in common, the only thing it seemed of late.

Besides a soul that is …

I thought I’d find you in here,” Angel said by way of greeting.

“Fancy a drink,” Spike slurred.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Angel said.

Spike raised his glass, tipped it in Angel’s direction and smiled smugly as he drained it dry.

“Spike, I need you to watch Nina, it’s the second night of the full moon and while there’s no reason to think she’s not secure I’d feel better if one of us was close by, just in case.”

“No thanks mate, I’ve had my fill of blondes for the time being,” Spike mumbled into his glass.

“Besides, she’s your pet, you watch her.”

“You think if I didn’t have somewhere, something important to do I’d entrust her to you.”

“Say please.” Spike smirked.

“Outside, now,” Angel sighed.

Spike glanced up at the mirror once more, watched the gyrating couples, the women in sleek dresses that clung to their damp skin, the men in short sleeved shirts that hugged their shoulders, shirts that darkened in areas where the heat from their bodies soaked in to the brightly coloured material. Bodies that gyrated in time with each other, music, heat and sweat all combined to reveal an intimacy he could only watch. 

Watch from the fringes, the observer in the mirror, only he wasn’t not really because as the mirror proved he wasn’t there at all, wasn’t part of the beat, the movement, something else they had in common.

Spike didn’t need to see Angel’s reflection to know he was there, he always knew when he was close, knew by the way the fine hairs on his forearms, the ones that were barely visible suddenly made themselves known. The way his skin tingled and his groin ached, like now he thought as he shifted on the barstool and swallowed the groan as denim chafed against want, against a need that had been too long ignored. Pushed aside, buried, disguised and temporarily cradled by arms that were too slender, temporarily sated by limbs that were too soft, too smooth and hair the colour of beige and caramel that shone like sunshine. 

_Sunshine …_

Who was he kidding, you fly too close to the sun you get burned, like a moth to a flame, he should know …

Just as Angel knew …

Spike stood, swayed slightly on his feet as Angel grabbed his arm to steady him and looked down at him with a frown.

“Christ, how much have you had,” Angel asked.

“Not nearly enough mate,” Spike replied.

Or maybe too much he thought because it wasn’t everyday he realised just how much he and Angel had in common and the nearness of him, the scent of his skin, the rough feel of the hand that gripped his arm. So unlike the softness of her touch, the dark eyes that watched him, so unlike the green depths he‘d tried so hard to lose himself in.

Spike swallowed as Angel nodded toward the exit, followed behind as they made their way through the heat and sweat and the increasing scent of lust and want, need and longing that surrounded the dance floor. And the bodies that swayed to the slow steady rhythm, bodies that moved closer to one another as unnoticed he and Angel moved further away and closer to the door that led outside of their dance, their rhythm, their lives. 

Unnoticed just as the mirror had shown him, that they were never really a part of it anyway.

Spike followed Angel outside, the door swinging shut on its hinge to reveal the cool night air that drifted down around them to slowly remove the stored warmth from his body but did nothing to lessen the growing heat in his groin. He walked several feet behind, watched the power he exuded with every step, the strength.

_Like hers …_

Spike saw the Viper a few feet ahead, noticeable if not by its sleek design and futuristic features then by the streetlight that illuminated its presence. The same streetlight that picked up the dark pigments in Angel’s hair making it shine. Hair that didn’t lure him with the promise of sun kissed days that weren’t meant for the likes of them but instead tormented him with memories of long ago nights.

But they’d moved on, forced apart by Angel’s soul, the same soul that tore Angel from the only sunshine he’d ever known, and the soul that gave Spike his first taste of sunshine in over a hundred years. The same soul that now bound them together whether they wanted it or not.

But Spike wanted, wanted more than he cared to admit.

And he didn’t care if it was unrequited, hell he’d gotten used to that of late, didn’t care if time and the memory had dulled the need to reach out and feel skin that responded to touch. 

He just didn’t care, they’d both reached for the sunlight and come away burned and he was tired, tired of striving for things beyond his reach. Truth be told he wanted to reach out and feel arms that weren’t too slender pull him close, wanted to bury himself in limbs that weren’t too smooth, strong muscular limbs that wrapped around him, pulled him down and kept him close.

He wanted to feel the rasp of coarse hair chafe against his cheek and taste the heat of lips that never surrendered but battled for dominance as wills clashed and bodies meshed and neither came away the victor.

“Are you getting in or are you planning on standing there all night?” Angel asked.

“Got a better idea,” Spike drawled. He grabbed Angel, taking him by surprise and pulled him along several feet, and slammed hard against the wall of the alley just beyond the streetlight and any prying eyes.

“Spike. What the He …”

Spike swallowed the rest of whatever Angel was about to say as he ground his lips against Angel’s with a longing he’d long denied existed and clung hard to his solid frame as Angel gripped his upper arms and pushed against him. He felt him stiffen, his lips unyielding, just for instant until he returned the kiss, arms that moments ago pushed him away now pulling him close.

Spike stepped closer as Angel’s tongue forced it’s way into his mouth to tangle with his own, groaned when he felt him slide his hand along rough denim to grip his hip and hold him tighter just for instant before Angel broke the kiss, stepped forward and spun him around until his back crashed against solid brick. And shit if that didn’t hurt just briefly as pain gave way to pleasure.

“Spike?” Angel groaned.

“What?” Spike murmured as he tried to take back the distance words created.

“What are we doing?” Angel groaned even louder as cool fingers breached the barrier of cloth and slid slowly downward.

“Moving on …” Spike breathed as he tangled the fingers of his free hand in Angel's hair and pulled him down to meet lips that surrendered completely.


End file.
